


Horse-crash

by Andreri25



Series: Loving in Doriath and Beyond [8]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Author Is Sleep Deprived, Beleg is Pissed, Elves Tend to Last Longer than Humans, Horse Injury, M/M, Married Couple, Orc Hunting is NOT romantic, The Author Regrets Nothing, Turin is a Softy for Furry Pals, and Unsatisfied, depiction of blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-27 16:40:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13252302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Andreri25/pseuds/Andreri25
Summary: Day 7- Turin's plan for their anniversary turns out to be a bad idea.





	Horse-crash

**Author's Note:**

> Please do keep in mind that there will be horse injury below. Keep reading at your own discretion.

In retrospective, hunting orcs just the two of them may not have been the best way to celebrate their wedding anniversary. But being fair, it wasn’t like Beleg nor him were overjoyed to relive the memory of that fateful night. Forcing himself over like that was one of the things Túrin regretted most, no matter how many times Beleg told him he had wanted it anyway.

“Quit scolding yourself and ride properly Túrin!” Beleg grunted when the horse stumbled hard, almost making him fall.

Túrin shook his head clear and reined the horse left and away from the rocky soil. He threw a quick glance back at his husband.

Beleg stood in perfect balance over the horse’s rear, longbow taunt and ready to shoot at any orc stupid enough to pursue them this far into their territory. He was magnificent.

Túrin grinned, “I think we have lost them, love”

“You can never be too careful when dealing with-” The archer cut himself off “Something is wrong”, turning abruptly to grasp Túrin’s shoulder. “Jump!”

It was a second too late. Túrin haven’t even let go of the reins when their horse tripped again and fell with a neigh, sending its two riders down with it.

All three rolled down the hillside of the forest, hitting threes and rocks and each other in the slope. Then it stopped sudden as it had begun.

Túrin intended to move, grunting, but noticed that Beleg had curled his body over him. No doubt to try and protect him from the fall and the all-too-possible chance of the horse landing on top of them.

“How do you fare, beloved?”

Beleg groaned and then sighed.

Túrin laughed mirthlessly “Aye, me too.”

The horse threw a miserable neigh and Beleg sprung to its side. One of its front legs was bleeding, coating its gray fur. Standing and coming closer, Túrin could see a piece of bone erupting from its ankle which was badly swollen.

The man huffed, tears pricking in his eyes. For the suffering of living creatures moved him every time, regardless of his reputation as quick-tempered and arrogant.

Túrin almost didn’t have the heart to voice “We…we should put him out of his misery”

Beleg was very still.

“I shall do it, if you cannot” Túrin murmured, pulling out his sword with reluctance.

“You will do no such thing” Beleg barked. “You are soon to give up on the only reason your recklessness did not kill us today” He ran a soothing hand over the horse nuzzle, hushing it into calmness.

Beleg started chanting in an ancient tongue. One Túrin didn’t understand but recognized none the less as the one Beleg had used many times to heal their peers, and even Túrin himself.

His love’s voice was smooth and refreshing, like the water rushing from a small drop into a well. For how long he sang, Túrin knew not but by the time he was finished he felt revitalized and the aches of his back and legs from the fall were gone.

“Fernaloth is strong” Beleg said with a faint voice.

The horse moved from being splayed on its side to lay comfortably over his bent legs. All four of them. Fernaloth patted his nose against Beleg’s face, grateful.

“He needs to rest” Beleg tried to stand but swayed.

Túrin dove forward and gently guided him to sit, leaning his back against the horse and his head on Túrin’s shoulder. “So do you” he said, “We are safe, I think, to stay here for a while until you gather your strength, my love”

They crossed no more words until the light on the forest grew dim and they had to get back on the road. Beleg climb with ease on the horse’s back but when it was turn for Túrin Fernaloth neighed and huffed, moving away.

“He is upset with you” Beleg snickered. “You will have to walk”

“We are thirty miles from Amon-Rûdh!”

“Then better hurry. That should teach you better than to rush into action as you have unstoppably done today” With that Beleg took off on Fernaloth at a slow trot.

Túrin groaned but followed. “I was not eager to end his life, you know me!”

He got no response.

“And I have already admitted that I was a fool for taking us into that orc den without knowing its size!”

Still nothing but a huff.

“You will not be angry because I could not hold it until you were satisfied this morning, Beleg?”

The elf turned to glare at him, the tips of his ears flushed. Embarrassment? Anger? Túrin suspected both.

“The nerve on you, Túrin son of Húrin.”

Túrin winced. “We have talked about that name, Beleg”

“Is it not your name? I refuse to call you by that pompous name you have taken like a child on a tantrum. Besides,” He faced ahead again, but Túrin could see the glint in his grey eyes. “You did not seem to mind just this morning”

Beleg’s voice took on a seductive tone. He _knew_ what that voice did to Túrin. _The tricky bastard_.

“Then at least call me Gorthol” Túrin rasped against the lump on his throat. “And truly Beleg, I ask you forgive me for my stupidity of today, for the worst anniversary yet”

“There was the one we spent apart when you left” Beleg mumbled.

Túrin’s chest constricted. Indeed he had caused Beleg more pain than good.

“Aye, I regret that too.” Túrin licked his lips and fixed his gaze in the back of Beleg’s head. Strands of his silky silvery hair had escaped the high bun supposed to keep them in place on the fall. “I will try to change, my love. I promise. Will you forgive me?” He begged Beleg. Only for Beleg. Ever.

A beat passed in silence. And another. Then Beleg halted the horse and held out a hand for Túrin, smiling.

“Come now, Gorthol. Let us get home so you can properly apologize”

And apologize he did.

Several times.


End file.
